


Promises to keep

by RoseMeister



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMeister/pseuds/RoseMeister
Summary: It has been an age since Alleria felt she belonged anywhere. Not since she arrived back to Azeroth, and not for ages before then. Even before she was declared Void-touched, the army of the light was never hers. She is no priest, no paladin, just a ranger, flung so far out of her depth.And she has only been here some scant handful of weeks, and yet despite the cold, the unfamiliar landscape, it feels more like a home than anywhere Alleria has been since she stepped through that dark portal, all those eternities ago.





	Promises to keep

Alexstrasza is waiting for her by the time Alleria makes it to her rooms. There’s a well-fed fireplace in one corner, two glasses of wine sitting on a table, and the ever-graceful Queen of the Dragons lounging in wait, who feigns surprise when Alleria slips through her door, shuts it firmly behind her.

“Alleria.” Alexstrasza says. “You came.”

“You asked me to.” Alleria says. One of Alexstrasza’s children had been waiting for her outside her rooms, passed on his mother’s wish to bid her farewell, one last time.

It’s the eve of Alleria’s return to Stormwind, and the return to all the responsibilities she had cast aside to heed the call of the Life-Binder, asking for help improving what defences there are in Wyrmrest, beyond just the resident dragons. It was an easy choice to make, coming here. Politics have always bored Alleria to the point of insanity, and the opportunity alone was one most would dive at.

As much as the cold disagrees with her.

But it has been bracing, in its way. Bites hard and sharp, sinks razer-sharp teeth into exposed skin, and away from the grounds, and into the mountains, surviving it is just the kind of challenge Alleria had hungered for for months. A challenge without the risks of war, where even just exploring by foot carries risk of injury, and as much as she relishes the warmth, and the heat radiating from the well-built fire, she knows all too well it is only the escape from the frozen wastes that makes the warmth so treasured.

“It is still an honour.” Alexstrasza tells her. “Sit with me?”

If this were any more formal, any less private, Alleria might have chosen any of the other armchairs, left the polite amount of distance between them. But it has been a long few weeks, and Alleria holds only the slightest amount of respect for propriety. She takes the space next to Alexstrasza instead.

From here, she notices a small dragon lying by Alexstrasza’s side, it’s head against her knee. It’s her youngest, a boisterous, opinionated young dragon that seems to spend what time she isn’t sleeping getting into mischief. She’s a nuisance, but Alleria’s heart has softened towards her in the weeks she has spent here, and she reaches over, runs a soft hand over her back.

“I am sorry.” Alexstrasza says. “But she wouldn’t sleep. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I know what children are like.” Alleria tells her, and she catches the small shift in Alexstrasza’s expression, some unspoken tension that relaxes just a fraction. And it is true. Even if it feels like an eternity since she held her own, eternities more since she knew her son as a child, and not a man.

Her sister’s boys too are nearly fully grown, even if the twins still drive their mothers mad. The thought is almost enough to make her smile, even if the remembrance of how much she has missed comes chasing at its heels.

Their conversation disturbs the young dragon, and she stands just long enough to climb into Alleria’s lap, and curl up there instead. And weeks ago, this may have made her uncomfortable, or confused her no less, but now Alleria just rests a hand on the dragon absentmindedly, watching Alexstrasza take the opportunity to pick up her wine, offering the second glass to Alleria. She shakes her head.

“I had heard a lot about you. Before you came to us.” Alexstrasza says. She taps the metal fingers of her gauntlet on the edges of her glass, soft and rhythmic, a strange kind of music that lifts above the crackle of flames. The firelight plays across her features, catches on the metal, casts interesting shadows in the angles of her face. But Alleria never lets herself stare. “Stories, of course. Legends.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Very much so. Fanciful things, stories of wonder and bravery. My children do love them so.” The tapping stops, and Alleria looks back up in time to catch Alexstrasza watching her, head tilted. Like everything else, her smile is gentle. “But none of them quite live up to the woman herself.”

“You flatter me.” Alleria says. She searches Alexstrasza’s gaze, tries to slice it apart, find the deceit hidden behind her eyes. The hypocrisy, the shadowed intentions. But she finds nothing. Shines light into darkened corners only to find more honesty than she wants to dwell on.

“I do nothing of the sort. I am not quite sure how I could have done this without you.”

“Any other Alliance champion would have come to your aid.”

“I am not so certain any other champion could live up to what you’ve done. Be so brave, so kind.” Alexstrasza’s hand returns to her glass, and she twirls it, spins the wine within into a vortex, then puts it down without drinking. This time, when she meets Alleria’s gaze again, her smile is almost shy. “It has been a pleasure to have you here. And that is no flattery, I assure you.”

“Thank you.” Alleria says, biting down on any further argument. It’s still strange, to hear such things. Not when Alleria knows all too well that the woman who left all those years ago returned a stranger. But she believes Alexstrasza, still. She has no reason to lie, even if her words don’t quite ring true to how Alleria sees herself.

Alexstrasza drains her glass in one go, and places it back down. It barely seems to have touched her at all, and Alleria briefly wonders what effect alcohol can even have on a constitution like hers, whether it is only an act at normality. Wine and conversation, she thinks. It’s as good an excuse as any. But she puts the thought aside as Alexstrasza shifts closer to her, close enough that she can lean across and scratch the tiny dragon under her chin. Her daughter purrs in response, low and deep, a vibration Alleria feels more than hears, and it shakes the dragon’s entire body.

But Alexstrasza stays close, pressed against Alleria’s side, and for the first time since Alleria landed in Northrend she feels on the border of being too warm, a dragon in her lap, another laying against her, and a huge log fire in the corner of the room, struggling to provide as much heat as the two dragons can. But there’s a comfort to this warmth. Even if intense.

It has been an age since Alleria felt she belonged anywhere. Not since she arrived back to Azeroth, and not for ages before then. Even before she was declared Void-touched, the army of the light was never hers. She is no priest, no paladin, just a ranger, flung so far out of her depth.

And she has only been here some scant handful of weeks, and yet despite the cold, the unfamiliar landscape, it feels more like a home than anywhere Alleria has been since she stepped through that dark portal, all those eternities ago.

And Alleria is no fool. She knows much of why she feels that way is solely due to the woman next to her. It’s not a hard puzzle to solve. Alexstrasza is… a powerful woman, yes, but a beautiful one as well. And Alleria is single again after so long. And having spent so much time near her, hearing her wisdom, her courage, her gentle nature, it would be a wonder if Alleria didn’t start to feel something.

It doesn’t help how physical the dragons can be. Seeing Alexstrasza is one thing, having her lean against her, crooning nonsense at her daughter…

But Alleria wouldn’t want to insult her hospitality by trying anything rash.

Instead, she runs her hand over the dragons back, admires her hundreds of soft, ruby scales, and pretends she doesn’t feel anything when Alexstrasza’s hand brushes against hers.

If the dragon had purred loud at Alexstrasza’s touch, now the noise is thunderous, the tiny thing nearly rumbling off of Alleria’s lap entirely before she catches her.

“You should be more careful.” Alleria tells her, as stern as she can, but the dragon only blinks at her slowly, and wriggles out of her hands to leap onto her shoulder, wrapping her whole body around Alleria’s neck and promptly falling asleep.

“I think she likes you.” Alexstrasza says, amusement in her voice.

“She cannot like me too much.” Alleria says, lifting her hand to show Alexstrasza the small scars that remain on the back of her right hand from when she first tried to pick the young dragon up. “She had a… unique way of greeting me the first time we met.”

To her surprise, Alexstrasza takes her hand in hers for a moment. “We have been poor hosts.” Alexstrasza says, and from the way her expression twists and cracks, it is only marginally a joke.

“It is only a scratch. How many can claim to have fought a dragon one-on-one and survived?”

It’s a poor joke, but it makes Alexstrasza laugh somehow, and her voice is so rich that Alleria forgets herself for several long moments. And then forgets herself longer still, wondering what exactly she could do to make her laugh like that again.

It’s a tragedy, she thinks, that someone like her should be burdened so, by memory and duty.

But Alleria is not a bard, or some court fool, to whom jokes roll smooth off her tongue. Only a ranger without a forest to call home, a warrior with no more wars to fight, a woman left adrift in the wind.

“You are so brave.” Alexstrasza tells her. But her words hold no joke in them, and Alleria forces herself to put them aside.

This time, when Alexstrasza reaches her hand out to stroke her daughter’s head, she is forced to lean more bodily over Alleria, and her hand brushes accidentally against Alleria’s neck. Alleria considers telling her to just move, or to take the little dragon into her own arms, but the words die in her throat. There’s an intention behind Alexstrasza’s actions, unless Alleria really is going mad.

Then again, maybe she has.

Feeling bold, Alleria waits until Alexstrasza’s hand has fallen back by her side, and slips her own hand into it. She’s half-convinced Alexstrasza will tear herself away from the contact, or voice a question. But she doesn’t, and her hand is soft, and burning hot, and coming into contact with it is like Alleria has held her hand an inch too close to a brazier on a bitter winter night. Hot, but pleasantly so, enough to chase away any fears of frostbite.

And maybe Alleria does dare too much, to try for something with a woman like her. But if the past few weeks have taught her anything, it’s that beneath the titles, the power and the renown that Alexstrasza commands, there’s a woman. A kind-hearted, gentle woman, braver than most Alleria has ever met. So maybe trying to court the Life-Binder is absurd, a fool’s errand, but wanting to bring some measure of joy to Alexstrasza isn’t.

“Have you packed your things yet?” Alexstrasza says. Simple words, said softly, but in a moment like this they are sharper than steel. “It’s a long journey back to Stormwind.”

“I have.”

“I can still organise an escort for you. There would be no end of volunteers.”

“I will manage.” Alleria says, and she squeezes Alexstrasza’s hand before she can protest any further. “I am more than capable of protecting myself.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And yet you’d insist on an escort of dragons to take me on a route I’ve travelled before?”

Alexstrasza doesn’t answer at first, not in words. But she rubs a thumb over the back of Alleria’s hand, and winds herself closer still to Alleria’s side, and with her height, it’s more than easy for her to envelop Alleria. She almost laughs when she realises the strange situation she’s landed herself in.

The stuff of legends, Alleria thinks, having no less than two dragons trapping her in place, one a handful of months old, the other countless millennia.

“No matter how strong you are, how brave,” Alexstrasza starts, “I would still worry. You’ve made quite the impression on us here, to me most of all.”

“Is that so?” Alleria says, carefully.

“It is. I know my children will miss you.”

In a way, there is almost a relief there, in escaping from the swarms of red dragons that follow her across the grounds, the younger ones begging her to play with them, the older begging her for stories. Even the elder ones have shifted with the weeks in her company, from mere curiosity to genuine companionship. There would be a peace without them, to be sure. But a loneliness too.

“Would you?” Alleria asks, finally.

“Without question.” Alexstrasza replies immediately.

Alleria turns to Alexstrasza, catches the alluring way her eyes shine in the firelight, the way the flames play over the angles of her jaw, making every one of her features soft. It turns her eyes a reddish gold, richer than any amount of gold could ever be, a treasure in its own right.

She is beautiful, Alleria thinks, and this time the guilt and the doubt stay away, and only the thought remains to linger. Beautiful, yes, but gentle too, and kinder than Alleria is quite sure she deserves.

In Alexstrasza’s rooms, lit only by flames, alone from the world and isolated from memories, Alleria makes herself forget about duties, about honour and about titles, and lets herself be mortal, just for a moment. A mortal woman, with mortal desires.

Slowly, Alleria slips her hand out from Alexstrasza’s. She moves it up instead, and, not hesitant but careful, she threads it through Alexstrasza’s hair. In the firelight, it shines like polished metal, a burnished copper, shining almost as bright as the gold inlaid into her horns. It’s bold, but Alleria is close to wine-drunk on her own daring, and Alexstrasza makes no move to stop her.

“I will still leave tomorrow.” Alleria says. It’s a bad choice of words. Alleria knows that immediately, just from the way Alexstrasza’s expression falls, crushing the quiet hope Alleria hadn’t even noticed. She scrambles for words, tries to stitch together her planned sentences into some semblance of explanation. “I have… Duties elsewhere. Much as I might be tempted to stay.”

“I know this.” Alexstrasza says, but her words come from deep in her throat, so deep they are barely audible over the crackle of flames.

“But I would like to return. Some day. If you would have me.”

There’s a small smile playing at the edge of Alexstrasza’s lips, which Alleria stares at for long enough that she almost misses Alexstrasza’s reply.

“My home is yours,” she says, “for as long or as often as you would like to visit.”

“Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” But Alexstrasza pauses, and now she reaches out too, touches Alleria’s jaw lightly with just two of her fingers, a small touch but enough that Alleria feels the ghost of it for several long seconds afterwards. “Your actions are your own, and I would never want to force your hand. But please do not tease me so.”

Alleria throws all other thought aside, and leans in and kisses her. It’s an awkward angle at first, but Alleria solves that by throwing one leg over Alexstrasza’s, straddling her. And maybe Alleria should be more cautious, slower and less hungry, but she can feel Alexstrasza’s hands rise to her waist, balancing her, can feel the curve of her smile against her lips.

And maybe this will only make tomorrow harder, and duty less tempting. Maybe some rational part of her will rise, make her doubt the practicality of trying a relationship with a living legend, with a woman half a world away. But Alleria is drunk on the feel of her, warm and real. With the way she holds her, steady but gentle. With the thought of making Alexstrasza smile, even for a moment, even with something so simple.

Alleria feels a strange vibration against her lips, a rumbling she feels more than hears, deeper still where she presses against Alexstrasza’s chest, and she draws back just far enough to check what she’s already guessed.

“Are you purring?” Alleria whispers. And Alexstrasza is, to her delight. The sound lessens with even that slight distance between them, but Alexstrasza is still watching her wordlessly, with nothing short of hunger in the gold of her eyes. It’s easy to let her win.

But before she can lean back in, let temptation rule her conscious mind, she feels movement around her neck, remembers the other dragon in the room with them.

Alleria curses. And then curses again, in her mind, hoping the young dragon isn’t awake enough to hear, or smart enough to understand her words.

“I’ll take her.” Alexstrasza says, slowly untangling her daughter from Alleria. It takes some minutes, the dragon unhappy at being woken, unhappier still to be taken away from her place on Alleria. But she settles eventually in her mother’s arms, and within a few seconds she has tucked her head under a wing, and slipped away again.

Alexstrasza stands. “I had best put her to sleep.” She tells Alleria, but she hesitates long enough to steal one more kiss from Alleria, awkward as it is with the young dragon in her arms. “Your rooms are still open, or you could…?”

“I will wait.” Alleria says, and all her daring is worth it for the unhidden delight that flashes across Alexstrasza’s face.

Alexstrasza waits a moment longer, letting Alleria say goodnight to her daughter, before she sweeps out of the room, her cape trailing behind her, making the entire gesture more dramatic than should be necessary.

“I will be back.” Alexstrasza promises, before the door closes.

It’s an easy promise to keep, and Alleria owns some measure of patience.

After all, tomorrow is still hours away, she thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> forgot 2 add my joke when i uploaded this: objectively the funniest part of alleria/alex is the fact that it implies that alleria adopts like. all of alex's children. idk how many there are but it has to be A Lot.


End file.
